


The Temple of Borgoff

by rennigann



Series: The Chronomancy Chronicles [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Epic Friendship, F/M, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:31:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9465479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rennigann/pseuds/rennigann
Summary: Like every great tragedy, our story begins with love. Ages ago, a King and Queen ruled over a lost city. A utopia built by men and elves. The city was at peace. Until the King's beloved wife grew will. A corruption burned inside her, and no spells could  cure her decaying body. The king fell into madness. Torn by his grief and desperate for answers, he turned to the forbidden dark arts in an attempt to save his wife's soul. Instead, he condemned his own. Twisted by his vile magic, his evil nature spawned into a curse that swept over his city, destroying the paradise that he and his Queen had built. A curse that slew his people and sent the city tumbling into darkness. A darkness that has taken root in the forest in which it lies. A darkness that threatens to taint the world in shadow. And only a band of miscreant adventurers can unlock the secrets of the ancient city, and stop the curse.So my friends and I are obsessed with D&D so I figured it would be fun to place all of us in the D&D world. Hope you enjoy.





	

The duskblade had hoped that with the sun falling over the Shining Sea and the rising moon would give him an environment he would be comfortable in.  He’d stripped down several layers throughout the day in order to shield himself from the blistering heat of the sun that attacked and charred his flesh.  But even with the sun gone, that heat was still there, leaving the arcane warrior brushing droplets of sweat from his brow, looking exhaustedly across the table.  

Calimshan.  For a party that had only just returned from one of Faerun’s harshest winter wastelands, it was not something they were used to.  Arriving at Calimport, with a supply of water that kept them refreshed had been relieving, for a while.  But the heat battered at them and seemed to weigh them down, even in the cool shade of the tavern that they resided in.  At least for the moment.  

Aaron leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers anxiously on the wooden table.  The impulsive movement of disquiet stress drew the agitated glares of a few of his companions, the two blonde twins that leaned against one another tiredly and the sorcerer who looked up from his map.  Aaron didn’t notice the looks, or if he did, ignored them, his eyes locked on his untouched drink that rested in front of him.  

Canine cracked first.  Slamming his drink hard on the table he snapped his verdant eyes on Aaron.  “Knock it off,” he growled, his voice lashing out like a whip.  Aaron’s fingers immediately came to a halt and he glanced at Nine apologetically as the fighter leaned back, heated irritation rising up from him, and typically everyone that sat around the small table.  

Aaron felt a weight on his now still hand and he glanced over at Josephine as the spellthief wrapped her pale fingers around his hand.  “It’ll be okay,” she said quietly and Aaron breathed, rubbing his face.  

He wanted to agree.  Everyone was tired, nervous, and fucking hot.  He wanted this meeting to just blow over quickly, get their assignment and then leave this horrendous city.  The only one that seemed to be at ease with the heat was Rowan.  The tanned sorcerer was leaning casually back in his chair, sipping on cold ale as he turned his brown eyes towards the window.

The door opened, and the party’s eyes shot towards the door, where a man entered.  Tall and handsome, with greying blonde hair and blue eyes, a white billowing cloak tailed his ankles as he stepped into the tavern, eyes immediately landing on the company.  He maneuvered his way past the patrons toward them, and gave a low bow.

“Greetings,” he said calmly.  “I am Alabaster Crane.”

“Thank you for showing up,” Nine said, his expression blank, but irritation still rose from the young man’s body.  Crane either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.  Most likely the latter, and the older warrior gave a lazy shrug of his shoulder, pulling up a chair.  

“I apologize for the delay,” he said, unfastening his cloak from around his neck.  He draped it over another chair and flashed his eyes over the group.  “And for the inconvenience.”

“What is it you need us to do?” Nine asked shortly.  Aaron kept a smirk from his lips.  Nine wasn’t going to play the pointless small-talk game before a mission.  They just wanted to get the hell out of there.  

Crane didn’t seem phased by Canine’s impatience.  His eyes glued to Nine’s face, which remained a wall of emotionlessness, before finally reaching into his cloak and pulled out a rolled up parchment, fastened by a crimson thread.  He handed it to Canine who undid the thread, placing it on the table and unrolled the parchment, his eyes skimming over it.  Aaron could see Nine’s lips silently moving as he read the letter, his eyes narrowing further as he reached the end . 

Nine glanced up with a frown.  He opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could ask, Crane answered.  “We don’t know where it’s gone,” he said coolly.  “Only who took it, and vaguely which direction it has been taken in.” 

“Where what’s gone?” Aaron asked, snatching the parchment away from Nine.  Almost immediately the duskblade could tell by the neat scrawl that it was written from a nobleman, the slanting of the quill indicated that it was a nobleman of this region.  The table was quiet with anticipation and Aaron brought up his eyes.  “The Sultan’s Sword was stolen,” he said, handing it back to Canine and Spencer frowned, leaning forward.  

“The Sultan’s Sword?” 

“The symbol of the sultan’s royalty, almost like a crown to a king,” Jackal said, leaning over, his amber eyes running over the letter.  

“Who stole it?” Wolfe asked.  

“There’s been a group residing in the Calim Desert,” Crane answered.  “They’re led by a man named Rassmir, a criminal...he wouldn’t have stolen the blade for himself.”

“So we know he isn’t going to just sell it off to the highest bidder,” Jackal muttered.  “He was employed.”

Crane nodded.  “The blade has magical qualities.  They’ve been lost as the sword was passed from generation to generation, but it still holds immense power.”

“And what do we get in return?” Russell asked with a grin from his spot with Jack at the end of the table.  Aaron rolled his eyes.  Typical Russ.  Mind on the gold.  

“More than you can imagine, little rogue,” Crane said, a light twinkle to his pale blue eyes and he stood up.  “I have already discussed payment with Master Strider,” he glanced at Aaron who gave a nod of confirmation and Crane gave a small bow of his head.  

“If I’m no longer needed, I’ll be on my way.”  He gave an agitated look around the establishment.  “And away from this hellhole of a city.”  With brief words of parting, the man took his leave, striding from the tavern and left.

“Are we seriously going to wander around the desert looking for a group of thieves?” Spencer asked tiredly, swiping his hand across his forehead and drew away droplets of sweat. 

“No,” Aaron said, handing the parchment back to Canine who tucked it into the folds of his cloak wordlessly.  “According to the letter, they’re said to be moving North East, towards the Marching Mountains.”

“We’ll never catch them if they reach those peaks,” Spencer said, furrowing his brow.  “They’re too treacherous.”

“Which is why we need to get off our fucking asses and get going.”  Canine stood up, pulling a gold coin from his pocket and flicked it to the bartender to pay for the tab and he jerked his head towards the door.  “Let’s get out of this dump.”  

“I’ll go get the horses,” Josephine offered, about to move from her seat to collect their stallions and mares when Carter put a hand on her arm, pulling her down and he gave her a grin.  

“We’re not taking horses, Sparky.”

 

“I am not getting on that thing.”

Canine had his arms folded stubbornly over his chest as he watched his companions cautiously mounting the strange creatures that were before them.  Aaron, beside his own camel, couldn’t blame the prissy fighter.  They looked weird.  They smelled weird.  And from what Aaron could see, they spit whenever they got pissy, which Carter learned first hand.  Equine looking creatures with tannish fur and humps on their back, they chomped down on grains their handler fed them and spat whatever was left onto the cobblestone ground of the stables.  

Aaron rolled his eyes, placing a boot in the stirrup as he looked back to him.  “Would you rather walk?” Aaron asked, a brow raised as he heaved himself up onto the cloth excuse for a saddle.  

“No.”

“Then get on the damn camel.”

“Fuck that.”  Haughtily, Canine spun around and walked back into the stables and out of sight.  The rest of the companions shuffled anxiously on their camels, glancing at one another.  Should they go on or leave him behind?  But before they could make a decision, Canine emerged from the stables atop a tawny, lean horse.  And the smirk on his face made Aaron want to smack him with the broad end of a scimitar.  

Before the rest of their party could start begging for horses, which were likely far more pricey than the creatures they rode, Aaron took charge, directing they away from the stables and near the edge of the desert.  

At this time the sun was just setting over the horizon.  The desert sands that surrounded the city burned red like fire as the golden light reflected off its surface, causing the sea of sand to ripple and writhe.  

Aaron turned his camel around, looking out over the vast emptiness and brought his eyes to Spencer.  As their navigational expert, Spencer was sure that he’d be able to guide them safely across, but Aaron was still hesitant.  They had no guide, and if they were to get lost out here, Aaron doubted they would ever make it back to Calimport.  

“I don’t think we’ll be able to catch up with them,” Aaron muttered lowly as Canine came up to his side.  Canine, as always, wore an expressionless mask, his mossy autumn eyes gazing out over the barren wasteland of sand.  

“We will,” he said.  “Inside the tavern, the woman that had been sitting next to us, she said a storm was heading north west across the desert.  If they’re truly heading in that direction, they’ll have been caught in it.  That will slow them down.”

But it would also mean that they too could get caught in the storm.  But Aaron didn’t voice these opinions, just giving a nod and Canine moved ahead towards the front of the group along with Spencer who was studying a map atop his camel.  The Ranger had mastery over all animals.  While the others were trying to contain and control their camels that moved from side to side anxiously, it took only a few soothing strokes from the ranger to completely tame the animal.  

Aaron was not so lucky.  He was used to riding horses.  The camel moved in a way that was foreign to him, and the hump that rested behind him was making his back ache and he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, muttering curses under his breath.  

“How many days will we be out there?” Jack asked with concern.  He and his brother both wore keffiyehs draped over their heads, Jack’s a light, sky blue and Russell’s a dark maroon.  

“It should be a two day ride before we catch up with them,” Spencer said, handing the map back to Aaron who tucked it into his cloak.  

“Then let’s stop wasting time,” Canine said impatiently, and after receiving confirmation from Aaron who gave a nod of agreement, the party started off into the desert.

 

Seth’s skin felt like it had been rubbed away with sandpaper.  Every time something brushed up against his once pale skin it lit up in fire, causing the small little cleric to flinch and breathe.  The thin, blue markings of his culture that wrapped their way down his arms and legs practically glowed against the red of his skin and he shifted on his camel with a heavy sigh, drawing the hood of his cloak up over his head.

Spencer had warned him against keeping his cloak on.  Said he might have a heat stroke.  As if Seth didn’t already know that.  But if it was a choice between having a heat stroke and being burned into a crisp he would take the former in a heartbeat.  

“You’re a little burned.”

Seth glanced over to his lover, a brunette warrior that stood nearly as tall as Aaron, garbed in a fine leather armor that allowed swiftness as well as protection, a blade at his hip that was adorned with a pommel in the shape of a silver dragon.  

Seth pouted, drawing his pale blue eyes down to his burns again and heaved another sigh and gave a nod.  “Really,” he muttered bitterly.  “I hadn’t noticed.”

Wolfe gave a low chuckle, drawing his camel close to Seth’s.  They had been traveling all day, and by now they were accustomed to the way the creatures moved.  “Aaron says we’re going to be stopping soon.  You can join me in my tent.”

The thought of cuddling up to his lover made the pain wash off his flesh and Seth pouted for only a moment more before giving a short nod, leaning over to nuzzle his cheek against Wolfe’s arm before giving a shiver, looking up at the clear, dark sky.  It amazed him how the desert could grow so cold so quickly, especially after the very air had nearly seared his skin from his bones.  

“Cold?” He heard Wolfe ask and Seth gave a short nod, his teeth chattering a little.  

“Maybe.”

Now, it was nearly as chilly as the long nights in Icewind Dale.  Thankful for his cloak, he drew it more closely around him, before Wolfe placed a hand on the bridle of Seth’s camel, stopping them both and the others passed them, Carter merely raising a brow at the pair before moving forward.  

“What are you doing?” Seth questioned.  

Wolfe didn’t answer.  Instead, he scooped Seth off his saddle, the muscles on his arms writhing as he pulled Seth in front of him and the little cleric settled himself in front of the dragon rider, giving a soft smile as Wolfe roped his arms around him and held the blonde tightly.  “Still cold?” Wolfe’s voice was beside his ear, tickling his skin and Seth gave a small shudder, turning around in the saddle to brush his lips against Wolfe’s jaw.

“No.”

Seth’s camel followed behind them obediently as they continued forward.  He felt his shoulders slump as Aaron called back to them, informing the party that they were going to be travelling a few more hours into the night and there was a collective groan from the adventurers and Seth breathed, settling backwards into Wolfe’s chest.  

His exhaustion, along with the soothing stroke against his arm from Wolfe’s fingers eased the cleric into a sleep, his eyes fluttering and his head rolled against Wolfe’s shoulder, drifting to sleep.  

But it was a sleep that didn’t last long.  

He was shaken awake by Wolfe’s hand, and he blinked tiredly.  He immediately got a gust of sand in his eyes.  He gasped, jolting upright and rubbed his eye furiously, only managing to the sand further under his lid.

“Agh,” he muttered, putting his hands over his eyes and peeked through his fingers, blinking away tears.  Somehow, he had slept right through the beginning of a storm.  Now awake he could feel the pricks and the dagger like pins of the sand whipping against his skin, his companions blurs in the sand.  

“Here, Mango,” Wolfe said, squinting through the wind, his fingers unfastening his cloak from around his neck to drape it around Seth.  Seth’s eyes flicked over to Wolfe’s now unguarded arms and neck and made a sound of protest, trying to push the cloak back towards Wolfe, but Wolfe gave a firm shake of his head, wrapping Seth up and held him to his chest defensively.  “Aaron!” he shouted over Seth’s head.

Aaron didn’t hear him.  He could barely see the duskblade through the haze of sand and Wolfe breathed, moving them forward past JR who were both wrapped up in each other, Jack’s face buried in Russel’s shirt and Russe’s in his hair to protect one another from the sand.  

“Aaron!” He called a bit louder.  Aaron, who had been right in the middle of arguing with Nine snapped his head over, his pale eyes squinting through the sand.  

“What?!”

“We need to find shelter.”

Through the sand he could see Aaron give a sour roll of his eyes, his growl echoing out towards Wolfe.  “No fucking shit,” he snarled impatiently.  “Go back and tell the others to get ready, we’re going to be moving out, get a bit further off the road before we make camp.”

Wolfe could only hear snippets and parts of Aaron’s voice, but getting the general idea he gave a nod, turning his camel around and trudged back through the sand, lifting a hand up to guard his face.  The sand attacked his now vulnerable skin, biting into his flesh and he growled, swallowing the pain as he made his way into the midst of his companions.

“What the hell is going on?” Jackal asked, struggling to control his camel as it jerked its head away, trying to protect itself against the blazing sand.  

“We’re heading out soon,” Wolfe said, repeating Aaron’s words.  “Everyone needs to be ready to get moving.”

“We’ve been ready,” Carter muttered.  He had taken Wolfe’s idea, Josephine sitting in front of him and she was twisted around, her face buried into his shirt and he had his arms wrapped protectively around her, his black cloak hiding her from the sand.  

Wolfe kissed Seth’s neck quickly before sliding off the camel and Seth turned around in the saddle, watching as Wolfe grabbed rope from his pack.  “What are you doing?” he called over the wind and Wolfe looked back up.

“Your camel is gonna bolt!” He responded sharply, hooking the rope around the ring in the camel’s bridle and handed the rope back to Seth as he clamored back onto the creature.  

At a sharp command issued by Canine the party moved forward, slowly, painfully through the sand, Wolfe hiding his face in Seth’s hair as they moved forward.  Before, he hadn’t understood why a sand storm would be able to stop an entire bandit company.  It’s just sand, what’s the worst it could do?  But now that the burning fractals were slashing at his skin and burning his eyes, he understood.  It was impossible to even see through the shit, the sand blurring his vision so that all of his companions were nothing but dusty silhouettes.  

The sand and the cold made the journey ghastly, and the dragonrider found comfort only in Seth’s body, his warmth, his little whispers that Seth would share in his ear to try and relax him.  Making a low sound in his throat he pulled the pale priest more tightly against his torso as they moved forward.  

He heard give Seth give a gasp and his head jerked up, watching as Seth’s camel gave a jolt, the rope in Seth’s hand jerking.  Finally with a sharp tug the camel wrenched the rope out Seth’s hands, causing the cleric to give a sharp cry as the rough rope shredded his palm, wrenching away from his fingers as the camel took off into the sand and out of sight.  

Seth moved to climb down from the camel to follow but Wolfe fastened his arms around Seth’s body, keeping him still.  

“It’s gonna get away!” Seth protested, trying to squirm away from Wolfe who just held on tighter.

“And you’re not getting away either,” Wolfe said.  The seriousness of his voice caused Seth to still before giving a nod, the tracks of the camel instantly disappearing as a gust of sand billowed over the party.  

A few agonizing hours later, the group finally came to a halt as Canine’s voice snapped over the wind, calling for them to stop and that they were to make camp.  Dismounting, the group began setting up their tents, throwing them up sloppily and as messily as they could in a desperate effort to get away from the burning sand, coughing and choking as sand was inhaled into their lungs.  

A couple wheezes from Seth had Wolfe glancing over to his partner with concern, Seth’s breath ragged and broken as his asthma started up.  Every time Seth would start working on something Wolfe would swiftly take over, saying that he had it and Seth would give a frustrated look, sitting back to watch Wolfe work.  But he understood.  An asthma attack would be the absolute worst at the moment.  

The wind picked up a bit more, if that was possible, knocking Carter’s tent to the side and the redhead gave a growl, steadying it with Russell’s help and Aaron brought his camel into the center of the group.  “Everyone inside their tents, now!” he snapped.  Why?  What was the rush?  He looked down at Seth who had his eyes locked on the distance, his mouth parted in horror and Wolfe turned, his throat going dry.  

Past the sand that twisted around them, was a sheet of it.  A dark shadow in the distance that was riding the wind, shredding everything in it's path as it came closer, a cyclone of sand that ripped up the earth. 

Aaron’s urgency convinced the group to do so without question, clamoring into their tents and ducking underneath their blankets.  

Wolfe was last into the tent that he shared with Seth, pulling the iron zipper up and over, closing the opening to their little shelter and immediately, the gusty wind was muffled through the fabric of their tent.  The wind still howled outside, roaring like a monster and battered their shelter relentlessly.  Wolfe could see it moving back and forth as the wind threatened to tip them over.  

Then, the beast came over it.  The sheet of sand hit them like a stampede of stallions, crushing against their tent and Wolfe quickly moved his arms around Seth, guarding the boy as the storm howled and swirled around them.  The shelter seemed to crush inwards, pressing on all sides of the two as they guarded one another, Seth protecting Wolfe’s face by pressing it into his chest, holding him closely and the two clung to one another as the storm washed over them.

Right when it felt like they were going to get swallowed up by the storm, it died down.  But only just a bit.  The deafening roar turned into a growl that made Wolfe’s throat vibrate, the tent still being berated by the sand that slashed at their shelter.  

Wolfe and Seth were breathless, snapping their heads to look over at one another.  Seth looked like a mess.  His red face was now like a tomato, the sun and the sand having lashed at his skin until it was raw, his white hair now a dusty brown, covered in sand and his eyes were pink from the abuse of the wind.  He wanted to ask if he was all right, but of all the concerns gathered on the tip of his tongue, the only thing he managed to say was, “You have sand in your hair, Mango.”

The comment startled Seth into a laugh, his face breaking into a white smile.  He tore a hand through his hair, his fingers getting caught in tangles.  “So do you.”  His thin hand reached out to muss up Wolfe’s hair, and grains of sand fell as his fingertips ran through his hair.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”  Wolfe reached forward, tenderly brushing his fingers over Seth’s face, eliciting the slightest flinch from the albino as he touched his sensitive burns.  “These are bad,” he said with a frown.  “Don’t you have any salves you could use?”

Seth chewed on his lip, a blush rising up on his cheeks, it was practically camouflaged along with his already present red.  “Yeah.”

“Then why haven’t you used it!”

“I was gonna save it for if someone else got a burn!”

“Seth,” Wolfe scolded.  “You’re burned to a crisp.”  Leaning over Seth, despite his protest, he grabbed Seth’s satchel  and glanced up at the blonde.  Seth’s upturned pout gave Wolfe confirmation that the salve wasn’t in the saddlebags with the camel that bolted and he dug around before pulling a thin vial with creamy, thick liquid.  “This it?”

“Woooolfe,” Seth objected.  “Save it.  I’m fine.”

Wolfe didn’t respond.  He turned the vial over, allowing some of the cream to slide onto his finger and he scooted forward, brushing his fingers over Seth’s skin.  The cream must have had magical properties, the cream likely crafted from Seth’s own hands, because as soon as it touched his skin the redness faded away into Seth’s natural pale.  Taking his other finger up towards the healed portion, he could feel that the irritated heat that had radiated off Seth’s skin had dulled down to a comfortable cool.

Wolfe heaved a sigh, frowning at Seth.  “You shoulda used this,” he muttered, tapping the vial to get more of the gunk onto his fingers as he glided them over Seth’s face.  Seth stayed silent, knowing that any protests would have been met by protective words from Seth, cringing only slightly from sharp jabs of pain before it melted away into a soothing coolness.  

Wolfe grasped Seth’s hand lightly and extended his arm, rubbing the salve over his skin.  “Sorry,” Seth muttered quietly and Wolfe glanced up at him, giving a soft smile.

“It’s okay,” he promised.  Giving Seth a small kiss he continued healing Seth until his skin was bare of red and Seth leaned back comfortably, finally able to rest back on the pillow without flinching in pain.  He muttered a thanks and Wolfe waved away his words dismissively.  

It was only then that the exhaustion and the cold kicked in.  The sand that peppered their skin had distracted him from the freezing night of the desert and Wolfe shivered, shoving his bedroll towards the end of the tent to use it as a pillow, faceplanting down.

He felt Seth snuggle into his side and Wolfe unconsciously turned so that he was facing Seth, pulling the boy towards him so that the two were spooning, nuzzling his face into the albino’s neck.  

He was so tired.  

He almost fell asleep, when he felt Seth give a little shiver and curled backwards towards Wolfe.  The blanket wasn’t doing much to protect them from the cold.  Wolfe tightened his grasp on Seth, drawing the younger boy closer to him.  “Cold?” he asked. 

Seth twisted around so that he was on his back, glancing over at Wolfe, and the brunette’s stomach flipped as Seth leaned forward, brushing his lips to Wolfe’s neck, his lips hovering over his skin.  

“No.”

Wolfe moved so that he was leaning over Seth, gazing down at his lover.  He was met by pale blue, Seth’s eyes half lidded and already hazy as he leaned forward, Wolfe immediately closing the distance between them as he glided his lips along Seth’s.  He felt Seth’s thin fingers slowly run along his throat, his gut curling and Seth wrapped his hand around the nape of Wolfe’s neck, pulling him closer.  

Only just a short while ago, Wolfe had been so cold, the skin over his bones so raw that every touch caused his flesh to flare in fire.  That fire was still there.  No...not fire.  More like steam.  As Seth rolled over so that he lay on top of Wolfe, his fingers dragging down Wolfe’s thighs he felt like he was disappearing, fading away into a mist that was absorbed into the boy that hovered above him.  Their torsos touching tightly, his mouth tore Seth’s apart as he held the boy close to him, lifting his hips needily towards the priest.  

Seth was suddenly gone, and Wolfe gave a groan of protest against the coolness that suddenly washed over his body, looking forward.  Seth had backed away to rip his tunic up over his head and before Seth had the chance to return to his heated lover, Wolfe pressed his fingertips to Seth’s chest, stilling him as his dark eyes roamed over his partner.  

Seth in his entirety was a sheathed blade.  On the outside, he seemed like a puny, pale little priest that would probably break his hand delivering a punch before he broke a nose.  Then you got a bit closer, and his lethality was crystal clear.  His thin, ashen torso was a sheet of rock, hardened from years of training and pushing the limits, his arms nothing but condensed muscle.  But then you reached his face.  Smooth, his lips curved upwards into a smile.  Icy eyes nothing of the like, instead being soft and tender.  Eyes that creased with concern as he cocked his head.  “What?” he questioned curiously, his eyes searching Wolfe for the problem.  

Wolfe couldn’t respond in words.  In moments like these, movement wrote pages more than words and he gently pulled Seth back to him, and the cleric melted into his body, kissing Wolfe’s neck messily as Wolfe dragged his fingers up Seth’s now exposed abdomen, eliciting a lustful shiver from the boy as he moved his lips from Wolfe’s neck up to the bottom of his ear.  

As Wolfe moved his hand up into Seth’s hair, sand dropped onto his face, causing Seth to blush deeply and mutter something of an apology.  He swiped the sand off Wolfe’s face lightly as Wolfe chuckled, nuzzling his nose into his lover’s neck

Wolfe grabbed Seth’s shoulders, turning them so that  Seth’s back pressed against the thin wool blankets that covered the rough bottom of their tent, and Wolfe shredded off his shirt, tossing it to the side as he returned to Seth.  

As he brushed his lips against Seth’s chest, he felt the boy beneath him give a shudder, fingers gliding down his back roughly.  Wolfe rolled his fingers his waistline, fingertips gliding along the fabric and into Seth’s skin, whispered, “May I?”

Seth gave a hazy smile, reaching down to draw his lips over Wolfe’s temple. “‘Course.”

Wolfe ran his fingers along the warmth of Seth’s bare skin then began to, ever slowly, slip his fingers inside the band of his leggings.  And just as slowly, he drew down the fabric.  First revealing a creamy stomach which Wolfe kissed lightly, and smiled into Seth’s skin as he felt fingers tangle into his dark hair.  

Pulling a bit further he came to Seth’s pale thighs, cut with muscle and he drew his mouth along the inside of those thighs, drawing a low moan from Seth who raised his hips up.  He reached between Seth’s thighs, where his staff was upright and raised, pulling a low chuckle from Wolfe as he breathed coolly against the warm, slick flesh.  Seth gave a shudder and Wolfe pulled his trousers down to his feet, worn and calloused from travel and battle.  

Wolfe took his time rising back up to Seth’s lips, his tongue drawing a line up Seth’s legs, between his thighs and along his stomach.  His every touch, be it his mouth beside his base or his fingertips soft touches as he grasped Seth’s sides commanded Seth’s every movement, ranging from soft moans that spilled from between his lips to his stomach that writhed and tensed under his touch.  

The two were about to implode when Wolfe finally reached Seth’s mouth, their lips coming together fiercely as their bodies wove together, Seth’s thin arms wrapping around Wolfe’s waist and pulling him down closer towards him.  

Wolfe drew his lips away, peppering Seth’s smooth jaw with messy kisses, giving a low groan as he felt Seth’s knee raise between his thighs.  He snapped his legs together, trapping Seth there as he grinned, running his fingers up along Seth’s sides as he kissed him roughly.  

Wolfe’s breath hitched as he felt fingers along his length.  Opening his eyes which he had only just previously closed in pleasure, he watched as Seth smiled up at him sinfully, his fingers dancing down his staff, eliciting a shiver and a sigh from Wolfe.  “Mango,” he whispered, the purr rolling off his tongue as he gasped.  Seth’s thumb flicked over his tip and Wolfe shuddered, his hands tightening around Seth as he buried his face into Seth’s neck, riding down slowly onto Seth’s raised knee.  

He craved friction.  Seth’s touch.  Seth’s warmth.  No. He just craved Seth.  Opening his eyes, he parted his lips from Seth’s neck to watch the male beneath him, watched his face contort in pleasure as Wolfe drew his fingers down his stomach and along the inside his his thigh, his icy eyes rolling back in bliss.  “Christ,” Seth whispered hoarsely, giving a short exhale as Wolfe leaned down to suck on his neck, Seth’s body giving a shudder.

As Wolfe moved his hands up Seth’s stomach to grasp his shoulders, he felt tiny little beads of sand beneath his fingertips.  Sand.  It was everywhere.  In his mouth, on his face, in Seth’s hair, between their slick bodies.  And Wolfe honestly couldn’t give a damn.  The storm still roared outside, as if furious that they were submerged in their bliss rather than drowning in its fury.  But to the pair, it didn’t exist.  It was just them.

As soon as Wolfe felt like he was going to burst, he shifted ever slightly, positioning himself over Seth’s entrance, dark eyes glancing upwards towards Seth for permission.  He need not even ask.  Seth grasped his length and eased Wolfe into his body himself, a soft cry slipping from between his lips as Wolfe entered him.

White hot bliss flashed over Wolfe’s mind as he slowly sank into Seth, his cheeks a rusty red as a bloody blush blossomed over his pale skin, his breath delivered in soft pants.  Wolfe snapped his eyes closed as he felt Seth constrict around him, uttering a groan as he thrusted forwards, drawing a sharper breath from his partner.  

Pausing to let Seth adjust he leaned forward, distracting his lover by massaging his lips with his own, tilting his head to have a better angle at Seth’s mouth.  As he opened his eyes lazily, he spotted Seth out of the corner of his eye, a hand drifting needily down between his own thighs.  Wolfe caught his hand quickly, mouthing a ‘no,’ into Seth’s lips, placing Seth’s fingers onto his chest.  

He then reached down, taking Seth into his hands and the boy produced a long sigh, his head rolling back and his spine arching needily, allowing for Wolfe to slide further into him.  Pulsing inside his lover, he gave an experimental thrust forward, eyes flicking towards Seth’s features.  When he noted no grimace or groan he gave a breath, starting a slow rhythm as he kissed Seth savagely.  

Tongue pushing against tongue, their stomachs colliding and gliding over one another, they were like the perfect puzzle.  He heard Seth utter his name desperately, and Wolfe realized that he had ceased his soft touches and he resumed his strokes, his fingers slithering up Seth’s staff which elicited a moan from the cleric.  Running his thumb over Seth’s tip Wolfe quickened his pace, his pants now ragged breaths as he pounded into his lover.  He felt hands wrap around his own, Seth’s fingers intertwining with his as he pumped his palm along Seth’s length, egging him on faster.

When the two came to their finish, the didn’t moan.  They didn’t groan.  They sang.  Sighs and beautiful sounds slipping from between their lips and into the silence, their bodies tensing as they tore at one another, their lips, their legs, their hips, their hands.  Shredded one another in the savage heat of the moment.

When the wave washed over them, Wolfe collapsed onto Seth’s chest.  His own felt like it was jolting, his heart threatening to burst out and he gave a shuddering breath, smiling lazily as he felt Seth’s lips glide across his peppered jaw, and he looked up tiredly to his lover.  Seth’s eyes were raw with emotion.  With love and affection that made Wolfe’s gut flip more than his touch ever did, and Wolfe leaned forward, brushing his lips to Seth’s as he raised up, slipping out of his partner before lowering to Seth’s side.  

“I love you.”

Seth whispered the words ever softly as he nuzzled his face into Wolfe’s chest.  There was a time where those words would have made Wolfe uncomfortable.  Fearful, even.  But it was a time long since passed.  

In complete and utter bliss, Wolfe gathered Seth into his arms, his legs woven into Seth’s as he pressed his lips into Seth’s hair and closed his eyes.  “I love you, too,” he said quietly.  When he heard no reply, he glanced down towards Seth’s face, which had softened into something sweet and calm that only sleep could bring about, and he gave a loving smile, kissing Seth’s forehead and nuzzled into his neck.  

“Forever.”

 

Wolfe’s sleep was interrupted as his partner stirred beside him.  Wolfe opened his eyes sleepily and shivered.  The sweat and grime from their earlier antics had turned to frost over their skin and the man shuddered and looked up tiredly.  

It was still nighttime, the moonlight slanting into the tent as Seth unzipped a portion of the tent.  “What are you doing?” Wolfe asked, sitting up quickly as the cool wind billowed into the tent.  Seth must have pulled on some pants, because he was covered in his cloth leggings, not answering Wolfe as he stepped outside.

Wolfe muttered under his breath, hurriedly pulling on some leather trousers and slipped out of the tent to follow Seth.  

It didn’t take him long to find Seth, after a brief scan he found his lover at the edge of the camp, which was a complete mess.  The camels were all gone, along with all of their supplies, some of which was strewn across the sand.  He returned his attention back to Seth, moving forward, watching him with concern.  The priest was gazing out over the sand, practically glowing white against the night, his body still and tense.  

“Seth?” Wolfe asked cautiously, moving up behind Seth, trying to find something that Seth may have been looking at.  Was he sleepwalking? He did that sometimes.  But after moving around to look at Seth’s face, he saw that Seth’s brows were knit as he stared into the distance, his pastel skin glowing silver in the moonlight.

Wolfe frowned with concern.  “Seth.”  He gave Seth’s shoulder a small shake.  “What are you looking at.”

Something caught his attention then.  Turning his head, he squinted into the darkness of the night.  The storm had finally died down, and in the distance, was a pale, silvery glow.  A haze of white that glided towards them over the sand.  Wolfe should have been going for his blade but he found himself frozen, gazing at the luminescent mist that then materialized into a figure. 

A woman who seemed to drip moonlight danced nimbly over the sands, her dress of pale diamonds glittering in the silver moonlight, flowing around her as she moved gracefully passed them.  She was gorgeous, with a curtain of white hair that cascaded down her back, eyes that glowed a light blue as she turned towards them.

She whispered, her voice like a bell as it reached the pair, woven in a language unfamiliar to the dragonrider.  He could imagine it was something beautiful, like poetry.  She danced a few more steps backwards, her footsteps leaving spots of moonlight on the sand until she leaped backwards, and faded into a grey mist that was gone as quickly as it came.  

Wolfe’s mouth morphed into a question for a moment before the slightest movement from Seth caught his attention.  The boy’s eyes rolled into his head as he slumped over and Wolfe quickly reached out, grabbing Seth before he collapsed and slowly lowered down, resting Seth’s head on his lap as the priest passed out.  Wolfe’s brows were creased as he looked up, gazing out over the sand.  

What the hell was that thing?  It definitely didn’t feel like anything evil or malicious...and it had definitely seen them.  And Seth, how had he known she was there?  A message from Lathander? 

Wolfe didn’t know.  All that he knew was that as soon as the woman danced across their vision, all the exhaustion and all the tiredness that made his bones ache had faded away, leaving him rejuvenated and strong.  

Setting Seth’s head gently onto the sand he jogged back, grabbing the thickest blanket in their tent and drew it out, striding over to Seth and draped it over him.  Cuddling beside Seth and spooning him affectionately he kissed the back of his lover’s neck and closed his eyes, slipping back into sleep. 

 

Unlike the wild pair that had clearly enjoyed themselves during the night, Carter had nearly frozen his ass off.  Tucking himself as tightly as he could into his wool blanket, he shuddered with cold and squirmed during the night, breathing into his hands in an attempt to warm him up.  Finally out of pure exhaustion the ginger passed out, the morning coming with the heat that began to immediately warm up his tent.  

Giving a groan he crawled over to the opening to his tent, his legs and thighs protesting from the day of camel-back riding and lazily opened up his tent, crawling out.  

The first thing he noticed was Seth and Wolfe, sprawled out on the sand near the edge of the camp, curled against one another and completely passed out.  Carter grinned impishly, creeping over towards the pair quietly.  He reached the two, gazing down at them.  Aw.  They looked so cute.  All nestled together, Wolfe’s arm wrapped around Seth and pulling him close, Seth’s face nuzzled into Wolfe’s neck....time to ruin the moment.  

But as Carter drew his foot back to kick sand onto the pair like an asshole, a voice sounded from behind him.

“I wouldn’t recommend that.”

Carter spun around.  Canine and Aaron were both seated on the sand a few paces back, both staring at him intently and Carter lowered his leg, raising a brow.  “How long have you two been up.”

“A few hours,” Aaron said.  Canine promptly then began to ignore him, gazing at the map that was on his lap.  “Trying to come up with a new route.”

A new route?  Why would they need that?  It was around that time that Carter noticed their lack of animals.  His jaw dropped, glancing around for their camels there were all completely gone.  The only one that remained was Spencer's, marked by the dark blotch on it's side.  The ranger stood by it's side, feeding the camel a fat, red apple and Carter blinked . “They’re gone,” he said quietly, snapping his head towards his leaders.  “The fucking camels are gone, what are we going to do?!” His voice had risen and he heard a groan from beneath him, Wolfe moaning and rolling over to press his face into Seth.  

“Chill out, carrot head,” Canine said, flashing his green eyes up to Carter.  “We’ll figure something out.  Now go away.”

Carter scoffed, but when Aaron gave a nod to confirm Canine’s order the redhead rolled his eyes, muttering, “fine,” under his breath and moved to join the others.  The twins and Josephine were already up, seated behind the tents and were brushing sand off various supplies that they had clearly found in the sand.  

“We lost so much,” Jack whined, using his tawny cloak to brush sand off his delicate set of thieves tools, gliding the fabric along one of the thin pins.  “Our food.”

“Our gold,” Russell moaned, glancing upwards at the sky somewhat longingly.

Josephine rolled her eyes.  “We have plenty of that stashed away,” he said.  “The food though....will be a bit of a problem.”

“What the hell are we gonna do?” Carter asked, getting their attention as he sat down beside them and Josephine gave a roll of her shoulder, glancing towards the black and blonde men who had resumed speaking.  

“Spencer lost his bearings,” she said.  “Which means that we’re stuck.”

“At least the storm woulda thrown off the thieves, right?” Jack asked hopefully.  

“We’d have to find them first, Jack.”

“Eh, we will,” Carter said, his voice having taken on a lazy tone as he leaned over on Josephine’s shoulder, earning a sharp look from her.  “Not the first time we’ve gotten into a tight spot.”  He glanced to the side and frowned, sitting up.  

Rowan and Jackal were seated near the edge of the camp.  Jackal was looking down at his lap, eyes closed and brows knit in concentration.  He had his middle and index finger reached up to his temple and Rowan watched Jackal’s face, looking somewhat nervous.  Josephine and Carter glanced at one another, brows lifted and the group raised and went to Rowan and Jackal.

“The fuck are you two doing, mon?” Carter asked, looking between Jackal and Rowan and Rowan snapped his head up sharply, putting a finger to his lips, silencing him.  

“Your raven.”  Carter jolted and looked back.  He hadn’t even heard Aaron and Nine come up behind them, and Nine was watching Rowan.  “Where is it.”

“That’s what Jackal’s doing,” Rowan said.  “He’s linked up to it.”

“And doing what?” Aaron asked.

Jackal gave a low snarl, silencing them as he attempted to concentrate and the group quietened, giving Jackal the silence that he needed.  After a few minutes, Jackal gave a breath, lowering his hand and tilted his head back, turning his face to the sun as he recovered from the mana usage.  The party, now together aside from the sleeping couple, stayed patiently quiet. 

Once Jackal had recuperated, he opened his eyes, turning to Nine and Aaron.  “Rowan’s raven found the bandits,” he said.  “They’re not far from here, they’re still recovering from the storm.  With the supplies that they do have, it appears they plan to spend the next several days there.  They sent out a couple riders forward however, for what purpose I don’t know.  My spell ended before Shar could follow.”

“Your raven is hella smart, mon,” Carter noted and Rowan gave a roll of his eyes.

“He’s my familiar, you moron.  He’s probably smarter than you.”

“How far?” Aaron asked quickly before the two could start bickering and Jackal gave a shrug.

“About three kilometres.”

“English, please.”

Jackal gave a roll of his eyes.  “In dumbass, it means five miles.  Got that?” 

“Got it.” 

“Go wake up the fags,” Canine said, jerking his head over towards Wolfe and Seth.  Carter went to leap up, but the twins beat him to it, the two sending him naughty looks and sticking their tongues out at him as they pranced over to wake up the sleeping pair.  

Carter pouted and folded his arms, looking back to Josephine with a frown.  “I wanted to be the one to wake them up.”  His comment was followed by a squeak from Seth and a roar from Wolfe and Carter glanced backwards, watching a topless Wolfe explode from underneath his blankets and chase a terrified looking pair of blonde morons across the campground.  

Josephine followed them with her verdant eyes for a moment before glancing back to Carter with a smirk.  “You sure about that?”

Carter watched the twins separate to dart around a tent and then slam into one another once they reached the other side, falling onto their backs.  Wolfe caught up to them, a series of curses falling from his lips as he kicked sand onto their groaning forms while Seth cackled from the sidelines and Carter gave a shake of his head.  “Nah mon, I’m good here.” 

“Tell me about their surroundings.”  At the sound of his voice, Carter looked over to Aaron who was facing Jackal, brows creased.

“An oasis,” Jackal’s voice was rusty and rough and Canine handed the boy his waterskin.  Jackal downed it gratefully, handing the skin back to his leader.  “Our best vantage point would be a dune that overlooks their camp. We should be able to reach them by sundown.”

“Perfect,” Aaron breathed.  And the Sultan’s Sword, is that with them as well?”

“Couldn’t tell.”

Aaron and Josephine shared a glance.  “One of those riders could have the blade,” she said and Aaron ran his palm along his peppered jaw.

“There’s no way you can follow the raven a bit further?” he asked Jackal.  The sorcerer’s seething glare gave Aaron his answer and he waved his hand.  “Okay, okay.  Then I suppose if the blade isn’t at the camp we’ll just have to find out where they went.  One of the bandits should know, we could capture one.”

“And how the hell will we do that?” Carter asked.  “I mean, it’s the Sultan’s Sword.  We could probably put a knife to their throat and they won’t give it up.”

“That’s why we have spellcasters,” Aaron said, nodding his head towards Jackal and Rowan who scowled at the duskblade.  “I’m sure they have something up their sleeves that will give us a way to get through to them.

“I have a couple spells,” Jackal muttered.

“Good.  We’re going to be using them.”  He looked over his shoulder to Jack and Russell who both managed to pin Wolfe, a line of slobber hanging down from Russell’s lip and Wolfe crying out as it threatened to land on his face.  And the nice cherry on top was Seth desperately trying to yank Russell and Jack off.  “We could always just leave them here,” Aaron purred.  Josephine gave a smile, the first real expression that had slipped from her features.

“I think things would get a bit boring without those morons around,” Josephine responded lightly and Canine snorted, rolling his verdant eyes as he straightened, fastening his heavy, golden cloak around his shoulders.  

“Just make sure they’re ready to go.  If not, they’ll be left behind, as if that’ll be a problem.”

“You know you’d miss them,” Aaron challenged with a grin.  Canine didn’t even glance back.  Just scoffed and rolled his shoulders, trudging into his tent.  Aaron chuckled and looked over to Jackal.  “How much time do we have before we need to get moving?”

“None.”

 

By the time the sun finally fell over the dunes, Carter felt like he was about to slip off his saddle.  Aaron had stolen his riding buddy away, Josephine nestled in front of her lover and taking a cat nap, her head slumped on his shoulder and as Carter passed the pair, Aaron sent the ginger a content smile, rubbing his nose into Josephine’s tired temple.  

Carter considered giving him the fuck you finger but instead gave a nod, moving his smelly animal ahead of the two. It was getting fucking cold.  The sun was disappearing and the sands were lit up in flames as the crimson light was cast over the rolling, shifting dunes.  Several times they had to stop while Spencer and Jackal dictated where they were going, at times arguing about whether or not they were going the right way.  But with Spencer’s knowledge and Jackal’s mana they were able to find their way across the Calim Desert.  

By the time they reached the bandit encampment, the sun had slipped beyond the horizon, leaving them under a blanket of stars that stretched out across the dry, airy sky.  Carter’s eyes drooped as he slumped forward slightly.  At a heavy hand on his shoulder he glanced over.  

Spencer had pulled back, his sandy, camo cloak up over his head, making the ranger nearly disappear into the night.  “You look tired,” Spencer noted, dark, curly hair falling in ringlets and out of his hood.  

“You have no idea,” Carter said, his comment accompanied by a long yawn that was echoed by Spencer.  The two grinned at one another and Carter stretched, arching backwards and groaned at the satisfying ‘snap.’  “How much longer ‘till we’re there mon.  I don’t think my ass can take much more of this fucking camel.”

Spencer glanced up towards the sky.  Carter watched his cerulean eyes dashing through the stars as he gathered his bearings, finally zeroing in on a hazy patch in the distance.  “Not much further,” Spencer finally said quietly. 

The ranger was correct.  Not an hour later, Canine shot up a hand and the entire party came to a halt. They were at the foot of a massive sand dune, the top of which hid the horizon from their gazes.  When Canine clenched his fist, the group dismounted quietly from their horses and he heard Aaron whisper among them, “JR, Carter, come here.”

Carter and the twins, along with Aaron, Jackal, Josephine and Canine, crept quietly up the side of the dune, keeping their bodies low to the ground as they slid up the sands.  Nearing the top, Carter could see the warm glow of a fire and when they reached the top of the dune, he gave a breath.  

There must have been about twenty of them mulling about the camp.  They had found a perfect little spot in the midst of an oasis, a pond of water that glittered with starlight surrounded by green, blooming palms.  It was under the palms that the bandits were placed.  Most of them were sleeping, Carter could make out their slumped figures in bedrolls surrounding a blazing fire in the midst of the trees.  

“How many guards can you see?” Aaron murmured to Jackal and Canine.  The two, with the best eyesight of the group, narrowed them as they gazed into the darkness.  

“Three awake by the fire,” Canine said, his low light vision only allowing him to see those around a dim light source.  Even from this distance, the glow of the flames reflected and glittered in his mossy, cat-like eyes. 

“There are five more that are patrolling the camp,” Jackal observed quietly, eyes flicking about the edge of the camp.  “So eight awake.”  Squinted.  For just a moment, his eyes glowed a bright orange as his eyes took on their demonic appearance, heightening his senses before they returned to their faded amber.  “They shouldn’t be too much of an issue.  Worn leather armour, couple ill-made blades at their sides, they should be easy to dispatch.”

“We still can’t just charge in,” Carter said.

“Duh.”  Jackal turned to JR.  “Our raged specialist will begin picking off the guards.  While they do so, Aaron and you two will be down near the sleepers.  Coup de grace as many as you can.  Once our presence has been alerted, Aaron will step in and give you some frontal martial defence.  The rest of us will then move in.”

Aaron gave a nod, and went down to start reiterating Jackal’s commands to the rest of the party and Carter scooted forward.  “Don’t you think I should be down there with Aaron?” Carter asked.  “I mean, I’m a better fighter than he is.  And they’ll be right down there in the middle of them all.  They could use all the backup they need.”

Jackal was already shaking his head.  “I have a spell that will ensure their escape.  I want you to stick with Spencer and guard him while he takes out the guards.”

Carter wanted to argue.  He didn’t want to sit up there and play guard dog for the ranger.  But at this point he knew how futile it was to argue with the sorcerer, so the swashbuckler heaved a sigh and nodded, moving to go find Spencer.  

 

He could see everything.  The heat that radiated off the skin of the guards that stepped around the edges of the camp.  The glint of blades lain out on top of their sheathes as the fire reflected off their metallic surfaces.  The dirty dishes and mugs of ale that were sprawled out around the fire and campsite.  

The sorcerer narrowed his eyes, amber flashing around the campsite.  He had to wait only a little longer.  Just until the guards making their rounds were the furthest away from the sleeping figures.  He didn’t want them to be alerted before the twins could go in and do some major damage.  

He watched one of the guards trek his way around the edge of the flames and towards the outskirts of the camp and he exhaled, turning his head towards where he knew Spencer and Carter were hidden on the rim of the sand dunes.  Even from this distance he could see their figures, mainly Carter’s blazing red hair that contrasted against the dark of the night.  

He waved his hand. A gust of wind was summoned down from the air above, swirling around his stretched out fingers.  As the breeze circled between his fingers he whispered into the wind lowly, then thrust out his hand towards the pair hidden in the sands.  His dark, wavy hair rippled as the wind shot off, slithering through the night towards the two as they waited for instruction.  

 

Carter always got bored easily.  Even now, waiting for the beginning of their ambush, he lay back on the sand, his red hair out of its small little knot and splayed out over the sands.  Amber eyes watched the starry sky above, and he gave a breath as a fiery star shot across the blanket of black.  “Did you see that, mon?” he asked with a grin and a hiss, shooting his eyes towards Spencer.

Spencer, alert as always, lay on his stomach and watched the bandits intently, eyes narrowed in concentration.  As the swashbuckler hissed at him the curly haired ranger heaved a sigh, closing his eyes.  “No. I didn’t, sorry.” 

“Lame.” Carter returned his eyes to the sky, watching for a few more moments before he groaned and sat up, giving a chilly shiver.  “Fuckin cold.  Aren’t you cold? No, you have your cloak. Where the fuck is your wolf, mon?”

“Carter.” Spencer hissed, spinning around to face the ginger.  “We need to focus.”

“But I’m bo-” a breeze fluttered by, grazing along the backs of their necks and up their spines.  A warmth passed over the two, making them still and the hoarse whisper sang in the breeze that brushed past them.

Now.

Spencer breathed and gave a brief nod, as if Jackal could see and positioned himself, grabbing his bow from off his back and drew an arrow back to his ear, narrowing his eyes as he peered down the shaft.  It was dark out, but it didn’t bother the elf in the slightest.  With a sight nearly as keen as Jackal’s, he could pick out every figure that walked through that camp.

“Which one?” he whispered to Carter who moved forward.  The ginger, being only human, was forced to squint into the darkness, before finally grinning wildly and pointed down.

“That one.”

“......”

“What?” The grin grew even wider.

“He’s taking a piss.”

“And?”

“I’m not going to snipe a man taking a piss.”

“It’ll be fucking funny, no one will know.”

Spencer breathed and rolled his eyes, narrowing his gaze on the man who stood away from the rest of the bandits, his torso facing away from them as he pissed on the sand.  From where they sat, they could hear a light whistle from the man’s lips.  Spencer closed one eye, his arrow knocked on three fingers and after tightening his chest and exhaling, released the arrow.

There was a whizz as the arrow shot from the archer’s bow, pounding into the back of the man’s head and the bandit slumped over silently, faceplanting into the sand.  One by one, the ranger began to pick off the bandits, his cloak keeping him almost invisible as he took out the guards.  As his last arrow pounded into a bandit, they both froze when the bandit made a cry of distress, clutching at his chest, at the shaft that was impaled into his torso before collapsing to the ground.  

Shouts began to ring and rise from the bandits as some began to spring up from their bedrolls.  Others remained motionless under their covers and Carter sucked in a breath, leaning back.  So JR began to do their job.  Good.  Then he could see them, the two blondes beside a larger, darker figure that was wrapped in a cloak of silken night.  

“There!” The voice had snapped from one of the bandits, pointing a finger at Aaron, Jack and Russell.  Immediately, the remaining bandits drew their blades and began to approach the adventurers who had raised their weapons, Aaron his twin scimitars and JR their spears.  

They didn’t get far.  Only a few steps towards the three their movement was halted as a globe of darkness exploded between them, expanding and cast them all in shadow.  “The fuck was that?” Carter asked, peering into the inky blackness for his friends.

“Must have been Jackal’s escape route,” Spencer said turning his eyes towards the group gathered on top of the sandhill.  Carter squinted into the darkness, and he could only vaguely make out Jackal and Canine.  Canine more so than Jackal, with his golden cloak rippling out behind him, glowing silver as it rode on the ripples of the desert wind.  Jackal was practically invisible, wearing a closely knit dark armour that camouflaged him into the blackness of the night.  

The darkness from below suddenly dissipated, and those waiting on the dune charged forward.

 

Every time he used his mana, he felt drained and tired.  His shoulders slumped as he lowered his outstretched fingers, watching the globe of darkness that he had cast with narrowed eyes.  He could hear the shouts of confusion and fear rising up from the bandits that were starting to scatter, looking for the three intruders that had seemingly disappeared.  

“And now we pick them off,” Canine said lowly from beside Jackal, standing several inches taller, green eyes locked on the chaos below.

Jackal gave a nod.  “We’ll pick one and see what we can....” he trailed off as one of the tents shuffled, and two men strode out from under its folds.  Jackal narrowed his eyes.  One of them was large and beefy.  His top half completely bare revealing bursting muscles and in his thick, meaty hands held a double bladed halberd.  The man beside him looked somewhat like a rat.  Thin and wiry, with a shrewd like face and a brush of facial hair above his lip, twirled upwards like the common trader that would pass by his hometown.  

He watched as the thinner man stepped forward and drew a wand from his pocket, flicking it at the darkness and the globe of night dissipated.  

Jackal growled.  “A mage?” Canine asked and Jackal shook his head.  

“Nah.  Just looks like a rogue that has a certain talent for arcana.  I’ll take care of him.”

Canine gave a nod and stood up, facing those that waited patiently behind him.  He raised his hand and clenched his fist and the party moved forward.  Quickly racing down the dune they moved quickly and silently down towards the camp.

They were spotted before they made their first blow.  A guard that was on the edge of the camp spotted the group, and he fumbled for the crossbow at his belt, raising it up and fired a bolt towards the charging party.  

The projectile flashing towards Canine, the fighter merely ducked down, and the bolt shot over his head, Canine being the first to crash into the enemy, slicing his falchion up along the man’s chest, spun around and sank it into the bandit’s belly.  

In one swift movement the company went into combat with the bandits.  Now that the moment of surprise was over, the bandits quickly collected themselves, moving to strike back at their attackers with skill and speed.  Jackal could see three of them locked in combat with Aaron, the duskblade defending himself through his dual scimitars, deflecting a blade with one then lashing out with the other, trying to get in a hit.  These bandits were more skilled than he had previously been led to believe. 

He heard a shout and Jackal spun around, gritting his teeth.  The meat man had a morningstar, and he had crashed the heavy weapon into Jack’s side, making the rogue fly backwards ten feet and curl up, holding his stomach.  Russell immediately went to the defence of his twin, standing protectively in front of Jack.  

He raised his spear to deflect another attack, and the Morningstar came down and smashed through the wood of the spear.  Splinters of wood exploded from the spear and Russell snarled, hefting up his two broken halves as he launched himself at the barbarian.  He buried the speared edge of the spear into the man’s gut.  A wound that he hardly seemed to notice.  The man reached out, wrenching the spear from his stomach and backhanded Russell, sending him tumbling into the sand.

“Russell!” Jackal flicked his eyes to the side.  Wolfe, finally having split from his lover in order to fight, stood defensively in front of the twins.  His blade, stouter than Russell’s spear, took the powerful blow of the morningstar, the force of the swing rippling pain up Wolfe’s arm and the Dragonrider grimaced, pressing forward, slicing his blade up the man’s arm.  This time there was a cry of pain as the man backpedaled, shaking the pain out of his forearm.  

“Wolfe,” Jackal said over the sound of the noise.  Wolfe didn’t turn to look at the sorcerer, he was too focused on combat, but he heard.  “Keep him distracted.”

Wolfe managed a quick nod, ducking down as the heavy morningstar flew over his head at an angle, it's spiked end pounding into the ground, sending sprinkles of sand up into the air.  While the two warriors engaged, Jackal slowly circled around the man, demonic eyes narrowed to slits as he searched for a vantage point where he could move in, enough of a distraction so that he could cast his spell.  

Wolfe was a good fighter.  Although not as quick as Carter, as powerful as Aaron or as versatile as Canine, he had endurance.  He could take a hundred hits and keep fighting.  As the morningstar crashed into his shoulder, dislocating it with a sickening ‘pop’ Jackal thought he was done for, but it merely enraged the Dragon Rider.  Wolfe snarled, moving forward quickly and pressing his attack with more fury, pushing the man backwards.  The rage and the passion caught the barbarian off guard, and Jackal took the opportunity.  

Sprinting forward quickly, he knocked Wolfe out of the way and let loose a series of jabs into the man’s side, rendering an arm useless and it flopped to the side.  Wolfe took the opportunity to retreat, groaning and holding his arm.  Out of the corner of his eye, Jackal could see Seth’s attention on his lover, and the pale priest was slowly fighting his way across the campsite towards Wolfe in order to help him.  

Jackal returned his attention back to the meat man.  He dodged out of the way as the man hefted his flail to his other hand and swung clumsily at him.  Sidestepping easily, he stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and the man until he was only inches from his chest.  Muttering an incantation under his breath, the sorcerer brought his middle and index finger to the man’s temple, and he suddenly stilled, his grip loosening on the morningstar.  

There was a brief battle of the mind, the man’s eyes rolling backwards into his head as he struggled to regain control over himself, before succumbing to the wizard’s will.  His body stilled, and he turned affectionate eyes towards Jackal, as if he had known the adventurer all his life.  Jackal took a step back, his knees like jelly.  “Turn that way,” he said coolly, pointing into the distant sand.  The man did as he told, slowly turning around and gazed across the desert.  “Now walk.”

Jackal stood and watched the man start his trek into the desert, not looking back, not hesitating.  The charmed man did not question Jackal’s command, only heeded it.  At least, for the next few hours.  

“What did you do to him?” Jackal turned tiredly.  Aaron stood behind him, eyes narrowed as he watched the retreating meaty man.  

“Sent him away, what does it look like,” Jackal muttered irritably.  The sounds of battle drew his attention back towards the group.  Most of the bandits lay slain, except for two.  A man who looked like just a grunt, holding the group back with a crossbow.  The other, was the rogue with the wand that Jackal had seen earlier and Jackal gave a curse, straightening.  “Take him out,” he ordered and Aaron gave a nod, spinning on his heel and sprinted towards the man.  They were backing up towards a group of panicking horses, thin and lean like Canine’s, digging their hooves nervously into the ground.

Aaron shouted an arcane verse, threw out his hands and there was an explosion of fire that fled from his fingertips, hurdling towards the pair.  The rogue sidestepped, a lazy smirk on his face as the flames rippled past his head.  His partner was not so lucky.  The fire seared his arm and he gave a shout, dropping his crossbow as he massaged his burned skin.

The rogue took the opportunity.  As he quickly mounted the horse, using a curved blade to slice through the ropes holding it still and took off, Jackal spotted the glint of metal at his side.  A scabbard, adorned in jewels and gems that glittered gold in the light of the flames.

The Sultan’s Sabre.

“Kill him!” Canine shouted, having spotted the blade and Spencer immediately moved to intercept, drawing his bow and nocked an arrow.  He missed, the arrow shooting past the man’s head and the rogue twisted around in his saddle, a wand in hand.  With a quick wave, a bolt shot out of the rod’s tip towards the group.  

“Get down!” Aaron shouted.  But the bolt was not heading towards any of their company.  The magic missile exploded into the burned bandit’s head, pounding through his skull and the man dropped to his knees and collapsed to the ground, blood pooling out of his head.  

Aaron swore, stepping forward to Jackal’s side as the rider escaped into the desert, his brown cloak rippling in the desert wind as he faded away into a dot on the horizon.  “He has the blade,” Jackal growled and Aaron narrowed his eyes, watching the distance.  

“Spencer,” Aaron’s voice snapped out and the ranger moved forward hesitantly.  The guy was ashamed over not having been able to snipe the guy on horseback.  Jackal snorted.  It should have been an easy shot.  “Will you be able to track him?” the duskblade asked calmly.  Spencer moved down to the tracks the lean horse’s hooves made in the sand, going down on his knees and brushed his fingertips lightly over the indents in the ground, turning his head to watch the trail that faded into the distance.  After a moment of examination, Spencer turned back to Aaron and gave a short, determined nod.

“Yes.”

 

 

  
  
  



End file.
